Mr. Lindsay watched, fearful yet fascinated. What strength! what splendid unity of action! what perfection of training! The admiration for physical strength and vigor inherent in the Anglo-Saxon race, the love of a fair fight in an open field, was asserting itself in him. He apprehended something of the absorbing joy of the game. Here was a contest of men, not in jugglery and sword play, not at arm’s length and with dainty tricks of hand and wrist, but face to face and breast to breast, with foot-pounds counting double and weakness a sin.
Again the ball drew near the Hillbury goal. The half was nearly over; a score if made must come soon. On the fatal ten-yard line Jackson again fumbled, and though Buist fell on the ball, his quickness was of no avail, for it was a fourth down. With despair in their hearts the panting Seaton line saw the fruit of their labors wrested from them. Hillbury took the ball, Rounds fell back and waited with outstretched hands for the pass.
“Through on him now!” cried Laughlin. “Wolcott!”
In the last word was an appeal which wrung Wolcott’s heart. He had broken through in practice games and blocked kicks, but here it seemed impossible. Taking in the position of his adversary at a single glance, he riveted his eyes on the hands that held the ball, and waited tense as a coiled spring. As the Hillbury centre’s hands contracted on the ball, he leaped forward, caught Holmes by the left arm and jerked him around, and shot by toward the ball.
The pass was high. Rounds reached for it and drew it down into position for a punt. As he caught the ball Lindsay struck the quarter and bowled him over; as the ball rose Lindsay rose, met it squarely with his chest and sent it bounding beyond the goal-posts against the fence which separated the spectators from the end of the field.
The Seaton rushers had streamed through the broken Hillbury line at Wolcott’s heels, and without slackening speed raced for the ball; the Hillbury backs were no less quick. Together they dived for the ball, covering it in an instant under a heap of bodies which were still squirming when the referee’s whistle called a peremptory stop. Little by little the tangle was loosened. At the bottom lay Hendry and under Hendry the ball! The half closed a few minutes later with the score eleven to six.